


The Homecoming

by Nybbas



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Feels, Gen, Leaving Middle Earth, Legolas & Gimli Brotp, Sad, Shire Reckoning 1541, Tol Eressëa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 08:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5578717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nybbas/pseuds/Nybbas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As their years of adventuring together come to a close, Legolas and Gimli sail to Tol Eresea to deliver important final gifts and reunite with old friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Credit where credit is due: I did not write this. My dad did, which is amazing, and I am posting it for him. Please support a first-time fic writer who is far more knowledgeable about Lord of the Rings than I will ever be.

“Raise me up, that I may see,” said Gimli. Legolas carefully raised the old dwarf’s head so that he could see the white shores and green hills in the west against the setting sun. The sound of the surf could be heard over the keening of the wind in the sails.

Gimli lay back again. Enfeebled by age and the wounds of many wars, Gimli’s strength had been sapped by the long sea voyage. He had not eaten and only drank a very little for several days. His useless right arm lay at his side unmoving, while his left hand groped for the covers. But his will was strong and his resolve to complete his mission was unaltered.

As the small white ship neared the quay, Legolas quickly brought the sails down and guided the vessel to a harbor next to the grey stone steps. 

“Hail, Legolas Greenleaf, scion of Thranduil, lord of the forests of Ithilien, cousin from afar!” cried an elf standing out at the head of small party on the hythe. Legolas tossed a grey rope to the elf and she caught it deftly, securing the craft against the steps. “You coming has been foreseen and I have been sent by the Lady to guide you!” 

Legolas sprang up the steps and grasped the strange elf by the arm. “My friend has voyaged far and will need rest and help to travel further.” Two elves clad in green stepped down into the ship and bowed before the white-haired dwarf who lay on the bed near the stern. “Hail, Gimli son of Gloin, Elf-friend, lord of the Glittering Caves of Aglarond. The Lady Galadriel sends her greetings to the Lock-Bearer.”

Gimli raised his left arm in acknowledgement, but sank back as the elves lifted the bed and handed it up to waiting arms on the quay. 

IIIIIIIIII

As the party moved away from the bright shore under the trees, Gimli felt his strength returning and he sat up to look about. The air of this land filled him with vigor that he had not had for many years. He grinned and called out “Friend, Legolas, though a dwarf may say it, this land feels like home.” 

Legolas, who had been walking at the head of the party, dropped back to walk beside the bier. “It is the Elven-home—Eressea. Although we of the Three Kindreds dwelt in the land of the Valar, in Valinor, and thus still do our cousins the Vanyar live before the feet of Elbereth, I believe Eressea is more truly the home of the Elves. We look both west to the Undying Lands where we are but guests, and east to Middle-earth where so many of our great works and our sorrows occurred. Here, the land is ours alone, and is our home.”

“But for me, I am only a guest,” replied Gimli. “For awhile,” agreed Legolas, “until you go to the halls of your fathers. But an honored guest none the less.”

IIIIIII

The path climbed through the shoreland woods in easy stages, finally entering a narrow ravine where the walls of dark brown stone were covered with moss and trickling rivulets of clear water. The falling water tinkled into a tiny brook beside the path, making a sweet music. “Does it remind you of the waters of the Glittering Caves, Gimli?” asked Legolas. “Or perhaps of the streams the Kheled-zaram?” 

“Aye, it does,” said Gimli. “Though it has also taken me to the night by the falls of Nimrodel. Do you remember, friend Legolas?” 

“I remember each moment in Lorien,” replied Legolas. 

A breath of warmer air, laden with rich scents, came through the cleft at the top of the ravine and Legolas’ eyes brightened as he breathed in. “So there are mallorns in the west, though none have reported it.” “Yes,” said the leading elf with a smile, “and lately the power of the Lady has made them great.” When they reached the top, they gazed across a level plateau filled with lush grasslands and copses of willows and alders, sloping gently up toward a forest of mallorns, great green towers taller even than Caras Galathon. Behind the towering trees, dark slopes led up to glimmering mountain peaks. 

As they crossed the plateau, the party became aware of a great platform of many steps built into the green hillside, covered in short grass and bordered with pink and white stones. The grass was dotted with flowers of many colours. Coming down a great, broad stairway to meet them was a party of elves dressed in green, grey, and white. At the head of the party, a tall elven-woman with hair of shining gold held her arms out wide in greeting.

“Stop! Stop!” Put me down!” cried Gimli, and when the bier was laid upon the grass he struggled up with his left hand, rolled from the bed, and rose slowly to his feet. Legolas moved to support him, but Gimli waved him away and began to take slow but steady steps toward Galadriel. At six paces away, he stooped and knelt. Galadriel moved forward, placed her hands on his white hair, and blessed him in the high elven tongue. Then she took his left hand and raised him up and, turning, walked hand in hand with the old dwarf up the broad stairs and into the trees to a pavilion.

Legolas gazed for a moment in wonder, but the elf by his side said only that in the air of Eressea, the troubles and pains of old age were salved, even though age itself could not be overcome. “We have seen this thrice before,” she said.

IIIIIIII

Galadriel listened and Gimli told her of the days of his life, of the great works in Aglarond, of the works commissioned by the King throughout the west of Middle-earth. Her eyes gleamed when Gimli told of the decades-long reconstruction of the great bridge at Tharbad, for she remembered that land well and the original bridge built there by the Numenoreans. Gimli told of the wars in the East and how the dwarves road to battle behind the Riders of Rohan; Gimli himself rode behind King Eomer. “It was in the battle where Eomer fell that I received this,” he said, pointing to his useless right arm. “We carried the field, though my friend Eomer fell in the charge, and I was hurt defending his body from the blades of the Easterlings.”

“But Eomer’s son Elfwine was a strong king, and also those who have come after him.” He sighed. “My life has been bound up with men and in their brief lives I understand something of the grief of the elves, living on as all else flits by.” Gimli stopped and closed his eyes.

Legolas began, “My lady, we have also come with news. The Queen sends her greetings and her love and begs to inform you that King Elessar has laid aside his life and has given back the gift. It is the death of the King that caused us to journey together hence.” 

Galadriel smiled, but her words were soft and sad, “And how is it with my granddaughter?” 

Legolas bowed his head. “I do not understand her mind, my Lady. Neither her joy nor her grief. The depth of her understanding of mysteries of Ea, the World That Is, is beyond my comprehension.” 

After some silence, Galadriel thanked her guests and asked them both to stay with her, as clearly they had intended. Gimli said, “I have only a short time left before I too go to the halls of my fathers, but we have one errand further.”

Galadriel gazed at him for a moment and then said, “You should make the journey tomorrow—the way is short, but the mountain paths are better in the daylight.”

IIIIII

The next morning, led by elven guides, Gimli and Legolas set off up a broad path through the forest. Gimli walked on his own, aided by a strong staff in his left hand; the night’s rest and the air of the forest seemed to have renewed his vigor. Soon the party left the forest, climbing above the roofs of the trees onto a trail leading westward through short rocky turf of the uplands. As the day continued, the company climbed higher, skirting the southern face of the mountain, until just after mid-day they traversed a gentle ridge and saw before them the westward lands of Eressea spread out down to the sea. Perhaps a mile further, a side trail led to the right down into a small bay in the side of the mountain—a small shelf covered in grass with a steep cliff behind and a sheer drop before. Gimli paused, set down his staff, and shaded his eyes as he gazed out over the sea. At the hem of the sky, a golden-silver light glowed. Legolas followed his gaze and said “Verily, there lies Valinor. I can see the swan ships of my people against the horizon.” For a long moment, neither said anything. Finally, Legolas said, “We have journeyed far, friend Gimli, and seen many things. But there we shall never come together.” 

Gimli replied, “I am content just to see it from afar, I think. Our kindreds have different fates in Arda and we cannot change them.” Gimli turned away from the sea, his eyes dazzled, and he stepped forward slowly toward the back of the green mountain bay. Under the shadow of the mountain wall, three mounds were laid. On the stone wall behind each mound, characters were carved deep into the rock. 

Gimli said “Legolas, can you read the characters? My eyes cannot make out the words.” He reached up to wipe his eyes with the back of his good hand.

Legolas read aloud slowly, “Bilbo, son of Bungo. Frodo, son of Drogo. Samwise, son of Hamfast.” 

Gimli sighed. “I didn’t doubt we waited too long to come. But our service to the King required our presence and we could not come before. Do you have the gifts, Legolas?”

Legolas removed three items from his pack. He carefully unwrapped the first item and as he removed the cloth, it shone with sudden Light in his hand. Though he had long carried it, he once again marveled at the beauty of the great jewel in his hand. He handed it to Gimli, who slowly moved forward and placed the Arkenstone on the tomb of Bilbo. “The great treasure of the dwarves, to the hobbit who helped to save us all.” He smiled. “He held it himself for several weeks long ago; now he keeps it.”

Legolas unwrapped a second item, a great blue ring. “Here is Vilya, one of the three—made by Celebrimbor, held by Gil-Galad the High King, and then by Elrond of Rivendell. The sorrows and the joys of the history of the elves are bound up in this heirloom.” He laid it carefully on the tomb of Frodo. “The elves of Middle-earth give this Ring in tribute to the Ring-bearer, who saved us from the domination of the Dark Lord.” 

Finally, Legolas unwrapped a third item, the largest and longest of the three, that he had carried by his side. In his hand, he held Anduril, the blade of the King of the West. He laid it on the tomb of Samwise. “Aragorn asked me to carry this into the West rather than pass it on to his son. He did not want Gondor to fall back into the worship of the past—something we elves understand too well—and it is fitting that this sword of Men, which Aragorn wielded to defeat the Dark Lord, should remain with one without whom the Dark Lord could not have been beaten. Hail, Master Samwise!”

Gimli blinked back the tears. The westering sun now shown back into the bay, and the three treasures gleamed on the mounds like stars. Legolas and Gimli turned away. “Now friend,” said Legolas, “let us return. Galadriel’s people will see that these treasures are properly interred. We have fulfilled our last adventure.”

“Perhaps our last adventure,” said Gimli, his voice now strong, “but I feel like there may be another in me yet, in my time remaining. Tomorrow, let’s start exploring the island.”


End file.
